


Beyond the Ends of the World

by a_mere_trifle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Afterlife, Drama, Exploration, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_mere_trifle/pseuds/a_mere_trifle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seems stupid now, ignorant beyond belief; but when you died, you genuinely thought that would be the end of it.</p><p>It turned out it was the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Ends of the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [le_voyage_violet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_voyage_violet/gifts).



> _Prompt: I'd like to see something elaborating on or somehow related to Aradia's quote, "we have to be prepared to die a thousand deaths before our quest is complete." (It's on this page, if you want to see it: http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=6 &p=005389) Something a bit dark, preferably._
> 
>  
> 
> I have issues with beta timelines and things... so somehow that turned into this.
> 
> Also, if Utena fans (or others) notice a double-meaning in the title, yes, it is absolutely intentional. ;)
> 
> (rejected titles:  
> marginalia  
> how i learned to start worrying and hate the bomb  
> things to do in bubbles when you're dead  
> the status is not quo)

-*-

It's not enough  
Using your words to damn you:  
They could have been my own--  
\--Adrienne Rich

\--

AA: the living need each others help

\--

As deaths go-- as _your_ deaths go-- yours was an unremarkable one.

It was simple, quite early on, possibly the first of the Game proper though you'll never know for sure. Karkat zigged where he should have zagged, as he might have put it. (More probably he would have said something like "Stupid fuckwit bulgelicker past self ran his stupid ass straight into an ogre like a goddamn horny xenophile", or something. You're not very good at imitating him, and he never had the chance to comment.)

Everything went wrong, of course. He was the Retrogenitor, after all; a timeline without him was doomed automatically. The trainwreck that followed-- the infighting, the missed appointments, the vicious battles between Terezi and Vriska for leadership-- were just icing on the cake of (it seems fitting to honor Karkat again) fucking screwed.

To be honest, you only stayed long enough to figure out the most unobtrusive way to change your path. You considered a long daisy-chain of cause and effect, calling Tavros to get Terezi to get Sollux to distract him at the opportune moment, or some similar sort of subterfuge.

Then you remembered how you died the first time, and you went back and killed the fucking ogre yourself.

You didn't tell them what was going to happen. You were saving them, after all, and what was the point of explaining things to people who were, shortly, never going to have existed at all? Such a dramatic fuss, and they were making too much of one already.

You went back in time, you slew the ogre, and you died.

You were an idiot back then. You really thought that would be the end of it.

\--

AA: didnt you ask for this

\--

Death was, as you had rather imagined, a very familiar state of being. Indeed, except for the first phantom stirring of nausea that evidently was your dissolution, you could hardly tell the difference except for scenery.

Then again, you had been dead for quite some time.

You were really rather lucky, on the whole, you thought. You had been made aware that this was only your first death, one sacrifice out of of countless, one service out of many. You got your part over with quickly. Your involvement was over, and now you could rest in peace.

So you decided that you would. You took up your whip, imagined up a pick-axe, and went to explore the ruins of your childhood.

If time worked the same here, you would be able to estimate how long the exotic mystery of the crumbling rocks and twisting passages kept you successfully diverted.

You're pretty sure it wasn't very long.

\--

AA: then maybe what you are doing is grieving

\--

Dying didn't fix your problems, because your biggest problem had been that you were already dead.

You sat on the edge of the canyon-- perhaps an artifact of the shake that had taken this palace under in the first place; but it was fitting that it should be mysterious, the birth of an endless abyss-- and felt considerably vexed with yourself.

You'd never been promised peace, after all. Now you thought about it, you'd never been promised anything at all.

Dead, but still not whole. You were angry, mostly at yourself; and maybe that was a good enough start.

If you were alive again, how would you feel right now? You wandered again through the ruined halls, trying to resummon the emotions of your youth. What was it there had been?

Excitement and anticipation, the thrill of digging into the unknown, a good mystery. That wasn't working. What of these halls you didn't outright remember, you knew a part of you was just making up. Where was the mystery in that?

Fear-- what was there to fear, in this place? No more monsters, no more pain, no reason to fear the darkness. You could not die more than you had already. If you could, it might be a relief.

Curiosity-- well, that was just as pointless. You knew exactly what was going on here. You could, perhaps, learn the true mysteries of this place-- but not by exploring it. For those, you would have to look elsewhere.

You kept trying for a while, thinking of home, of adventure, of heroism, of nostalgia, and found yourself entirely unmoved. It seemed that there was only room for two things in your heart-- emptiness, and anger.

It would come if you had patience. All you had to do was wait, you were sure of it.

"To hell with this," you muttered, and the ruins vanished around you without a sound.

You assumed it was a defeat. Later you realized it was the most lifelike thing you'd done in months.

\--

AA: thats because it isnt your memory

\--

So you wandered.

(That's what you thought it was, defeated rambling. Later you realized you had been doing what you intended all along: exploring ruins.)

The realm of the dead was a strange place, and full of wonders. All of the landmarks you had ever heard of were here. So were all of the friends you had ever wanted to visit, which was more of a temptation; but what did you have to say to any of them? Nothing that could make them happier. You stayed away.

Then there were the places you had never heard of. Some were obviously realms of fantasy-- there was a certain taste to them, a vagueness, that told you they were even less real. A land of cliffs and dragons that tasted faintly of Terezi; a bright, courteous blood-drinker court that was too meticulously crafted to belong to anyone but Kanaya. Those also you understood.

Then you found places that were on strange, alien worlds, that did not hold the telltale sound(taste/scent) of fantasy. You stood for long hours on a crudely paved street, one that held rows and rows of too-similarly-built hives; one where adults and children alike were coming and going at will, with no violence, fewer fights. Living together in hives; not a lusus in sight.

You watched a grown, vaguely-drawn alien cleansing what appeared to be his conveyance for what felt like a good hour, nursing the faint variants of anger that were growing in your heart. _Envy_ , of this strange and peaceful life. _Resentful_ , that living in such ignorance of the realities of the universe was so flagrantly allowed to continue. _Unease_...

You weren't sure where the unease was coming from. If you hadn't been trying to feel emotions, you might never have noticed it.

But you were, and you did; and that was the seed that would flower into curiosity.

But not quite yet.

\--

AA: would you be upset

\--

You discovered the walls by accident.

You had developed favorite bubbles, by now, and you were starting to get a sense of their topology. It seemed to you that there ought to be a shortcut between the lonely cove and the city of steel and fire; so you decided to test the hypothesis. You went in the needed direction, found the bubble's edge, and pressed a hand against it.

It was like pressing your hand against a wall.

You frowned. Adjoining bubbles gave near as easily as soap bubbles did; there was a warning fizz, a cold to those that opened to the Void, but if you were a fool you could pass through anyway. You had never encountered one that felt like a wall before, and no matter how long you thought about it, the pool of knowledge you'd been told held everything you needed came up with no notion of what it could be.

You let it go the first time, then ran into it again, attempting to depart the grassy island for the meteor. This time, you felt annoyance; the white dog of this place did not want you here, and was very forceful in assisting your departure. Why should there have been a damned wall there, anyway?

Why _should_ there have been a wall there?

A flicker of curiosity; but you didn't quite recognize it yet. Your attention was diverted by another emotion.

If the walls were going to be such a nuisance, you were going to break the damned things down.

\--

AA: you may cross paths with them if you wish

\--

Therefore, you got better at violence.

There were innumerable figments here to practice them; most of them not yours, so they would attack in unpredictable ways. You weren't as good at fighting outside the hothouse of Sgrub, you learned; some of your friends might have been warriors in their own right, but you had been more psychological in your LARPing, and in the game you depended more than you realized on magical currents and pistons and steel. You had rather more on your mind, after all.

You weren't that good at fighting, but you had all the time in the world to train. And you had always been amazingly quick to learn.

It wasn't helping against the walls, though. Your whip, of course, was useless; blunt force proved no more useful. Edged weapons didn't work, either, and you stopped using them after the one time you missed your mark, stranding yourself in the Void for time unknown before you miraculously drifted to shore.

(There were screams, which you had expected; strange eldritch singing, of which you had been warned. What you did not expect was the cacophony of dirges, the voices singing sorrowful duets and full choruses, in languages you had never heard before-- and some in ones you _had_.)

Truthfully (and it's better to be honest, vital to be honest), you still don't really know how you got through those walls, the first time. After that, you learned the trick of it-- but you had not discovered it on your own.

You think what happened is that someone opened a door.

You also think that you know who it was.

\--

AA: and yes your guardian did die

\--

It was green and it was white. You knew that those colors were not yours, and you knew that they were sacred.

It had been real. It had that distinctive edge, that solidity, that buzz to it. Fantastic as it looked, this was a place someone had been.

Your hand clutched the whip at your side, as you explored the pristine corridors. The light was artificial, only a slight burn on the skin of your face, but it flickered, as the world itself did, as was the way of dreams.

For some irrational reason, you were even a little bit afraid.

You turned a corner; you poked your head through an immaculate doorway.

You were sitting on a neatly upholstered piece of green-and-white furniture, carving your ancestral symbol into your arm.

You jumped back, instinctively; by the time you returned, the world had flickered, a strange white creature winding pristine white bandages around your arm as _not_ -you screamed-- placing an elegant silver dinner setting on the table-- knocking _her_ to the ground with a none-too-gentle swing of a broom.

He wasn't real-- he wasn't here-- but you were still afraid.

The girl wasn't you; you were sure of it, despite your tangled timeline. But she had your symbol, and your heritage, and your face. That could not be coincidence.

The words were even more piecemeal than the images, broken up, jumbled half beyond recognition. They echoed through all of the corridors, as you explored further, but you didn't really need to hear it. You knew the most important part of it once he said the word "Master".

You were tracing her steps; you could see phantom flashes of her running, hear her heavy breaths, feel flashes of exhausted triumph skittering down your nerves. _Finally--finally--finally_ , a voice whispered in your inner ear, familiar and not-yours but very very close.

It occurred to you, for a moment, that you should possibly turn back. You were dimly certain that there was a snare set somewhere under your feet, waiting on the lightest touch to set it off, looming and inevitable.

Then you realized that you had rediscovered curiosity, and curiosity had you trapped.

 _This trap is not for me._ You followed after her, your semblance, your kin, watching her dart through hallways, cut cleverly through corners, not bothering to obstruct the path behind her. She found a door she knew, finally, one she had come a breath away from escaping through before (hauled off, screaming, scolded like an errant pupa), throwing it open, out into the vast space of--

She stood, stock-still, staring at--

_It's your destiny, you know--_

Something green, something monstrous, something larger than the world--

You found yourself on your knees, nauseous, brilliant sun blazing overhead. You looked up, and she was standing in front of a burning city, a city burning so hot the sea it bordered was boiling into steam. She. She was older. She was not you. She was very close.

She was wearing green and black and darkest green and greenish black. She was wearing your family's sigil on her breast. She was long-horned and tall and beautiful; and she was the ruination of the world.

And she had been made to be.

\--

AA: maybe she is helping you through this

\--

The first time, she cast you away, the moment she realized you were there. That took a while, actually. She had a lot to think about.

But the doors were still open, and now you could sense the trick of them.

You knew what the walls were, now; exploring only confirmed your suspicions. The walls were to keep you out. The walls were to keep you from knowing the _real_ truths behind your life, your quest, your universe. Behind your Master.

You had been told a lot of things; you had assumed that they were comprehensive, and that they were true. It hadn't occurred to you, somehow, that this vast library of secret knowledge, this privilege of power and service, might have been carefully edited for your consumption.

You had come to terms with being played, but that was when you had at least thought that you knew the rules, the goals of the game. Even then, you're starting to wonder if you gave over your will too quickly.

_I will die a thousand times. But it is all right, because I am dead already, and this is the only way that everyone else will survive..._

No. Time to be rid of that lie.

_This is the only way that I will ever be alive again. Even if it is for one instance of me in a million, I will kill and die for that chance._

You wanted to swear, but you couldn't think of any words that seemed even remotely sufficient. You felt stupid, and ashamed, and blindly, fiery angry--

\--You _felt_.

You shivered; you almost didn't want to examine the realization too closely, in case the feelings suddenly disappeared as suddenly as they came.

 _Not much chance of that,_ you thought, feeling dumber. It was far too intense for that, you really almost felt--

 _Questions._ You had to ask questions! You had to go everywhere you weren't supposed to, you knew it for sure. And now--

Now you could, because one door had opened. The Devil Herself, the Handmaid--

_The tales had her as Signless--_

\--And yet there your sigil had been, though the horns would have been sign enough for you, the hum of unnatural kinship in your blood, through your imaginary nerves, whatever facsimiles the dead projected--

_That assumes she meant to send a sign..._

But no. That was only logical. The Handmaid would not make such a mistake. The Handmaid would not leave such fundamental memories, her very lair, open by chance--

_...Handmaid. Hand **maid**..._

You wished you had a digestive organ. You wanted very badly to throw up.

It was the Devil you were dealing with. It was quite possible this was manipulation, a trick to win your sympathy...

_Haven't I been dealing with Her Master all along...?_

No. You stood up, shakily; you were damn well going to trust _your kin_ over Her mysterious, treacherous Master. Whatever she'd done, it had been on orders, anyway...

_And I of all people should understand that._

No. It was time to do things differently. It was time to scour this realm for the answers to your questions.

Didn't you have all the time in the world?

\--

AA: yes it can be on the table and yes reality still means something

\--

The second time you visited her, she noticed you more quickly. "Fuck off," she said, and cast you out.

The third time you visited her, she actually turned to look at you. "I have eaten your kind for breakfast, you impertinent whelp."

You said, "It wouldn't be the first time I was killed. Quite probably not the most painful, either."

"Fuck off," she said, and cast you out.

The fourth time you visited her, she said, "You realize I meant that I have quite literally eaten pupas for breakfast?"

"Of course I do," you answered. "I've hardly been wasting my time. I have been researching these things. Did you really expect me to be shocked?"

"Some of you fucking grubs actually have some sense of self-preservation."

"You don't recall breeding it out of us?"

"Do you think I was paying attention?"

You looked at her; strange, how her eyes were so familiar. They'd glowed with demon-light in all the stories, but that was dead, now; you were beyond Its reach. "No," you said, "I think you weren't, really. I think you gave that up. I think you subordinated your will to the will of the Plan, and I think that you thought nothing at all of what you had to do, and even less of why, because you liked none of it, and it was all Fated anyway. I know," you said, "because that is what I did, and we are closer than broodmates, aren't we?"

She looked at you for a second; and she said, "Get the fuck out of here, you lusus-fucking abortion," and cast you out.

But you fell rather less smartly on your ass than you had any time before.

The fifth time you visited her, she knew you were there immediately, and she sighed in pure exasperation. "What the fuck are you doing here, you little shit? Isn't everywhere else in the entire fucking Hellscape good enough for you?"

"Is this Hell?"

"Who the fuck cares?"

"I suspect it's what you make it. Though, the Horrorterrors do make me wonder."

She produced a cancer stick in a long holder; she took a long, slow drag of it. "What in the name of _fuck_ do you want from me, kid? I'm not your lusus, I'm not your Mother, I'm not even your fucking Devil anymore. I'm trying to be dead in fucking peace and _I don't have anything for you_ , there is nothing here."

"There's nothing here?"

"It's the realm of the dead, you ignorant little bitch, what the fuck do you expect? It's over. Done. This is our world, that was theirs, time to fucking rest in peace, while Her Imperious Lusus-fucking Condescension--"

You tilted your head. "You're actually jealous, aren't you?"

"What the fuck should I be jealous of! A hundred fucking lifetimes of being that Thing's bitch--"

She paled, wobbling slightly; you said, "It can't stop you here." For the first time in her life, probably. Of course, she was, at the moment, dead...

"Which is why I'm fucking glad to be here, and I'm never going to-- wait. Wait. I can read that stupid fucking face of yours." She strode over to you, grabbing you by the neck, seemingly without effort. "You stupid little bitch. You want to _do_ something, don't you?"

It hadn't occurred to you quite so clearly until then. "Yes, actually."

"The dead can't fuck with the living, what the shit are you trying to prove?"

"You swear like Karkat, nearly, though he beats you for creativity... did you like killing his Ancestor?"

" _I don't HAVE opinions!_ " Her grip grew tighter; you reminded yourself that you were dead, and had no need to breathe. "What is it you want? Why the fuck do you keep coming here??"

"Because I have to learn," you said, keeping your voice measured; you were dead, you didn't have to breathe to speak, you were not actually in pain. "I have to learn what happened, and what is happening, and how it can be stopped."

"It can never be stopped." She glared at you. "And even if it could, what the fuck would you do about it, dead girl?"

"Ignoring our many ways to contact the living? I don't know. But I have all the time in the world, don't I?" You found yourself glaring back, despite the way you'd reminded yourself you shouldn't be angry at her, she didn't deserve it, there was no reason to bother. "We don't _know_ what's going on here. How do we know there's no way out? How do we _know_ there's nothing we can do. And why should I care if there isn't? We're dead! I have all of eternity on my hands; how better to spend it than dreaming up ways to kick that fucker's ass?"

Pain flashed in her eyes. "You're an idiot," she told you. "A goddamned fool."

She cast you out, and you landed, again, directly on your ass in the middle of a grassy field.

You were pretty sure you had made great progress today.

\--

AA: they come here too

\--

So you had admitted to yourself your great Dream. Revenge, at the least; assisting the remnants of the living, more preferably; you had halcyon dreams of one final reset, a proper one this time, erasing this sick fuckery from the universe to begin with, but that didn't seem very possible, even to you.

That did not mean it wasn't worth a shot, though.

But that was a dream for later. You had learned very well how to be patient, by now.

It was really a coincidence that you saw it at all. You tended to steer well clear of the other Aradias; they reminded you too much of yourself, yourself as you were before shock and anger rekindled your spark... yourself as you were now, too, to be honest, because part of you wondered if all your anger, all your intrigues, were just a frantic cover for the knowledge that you would never be anything but dead ever again.

But you went a bubble too far to the East (with North defined as the place in the Void where the howls were the loudest), and there was an entire herd of them. You couldn't see why, at first; while the others would congregate in ones and twos sometimes, they seemed, like you, averse to gather into an entire flock. _Would 'apocalypse' be the collective noun for us?_ you wondered, _Or perhaps 'sacrifice'?_

Then you realized why they had gathered, and you forgot all about questions of vocabulary.

"Fucking herd-beasts!" she was screaming. "Branded and sold like slaves, you think I will listen to any of your bleating?!"

"Calm down!" another was pleading. "Just, just come and have some tea--"

"What do I have to be _calm_ about??" She threw a whiplash of psychic fire at the crowd, and you knew your instinctive reaction of pure delight was probably exactly the wrong thing. "The fucking dying _alone_ would be enough to be _upset_ about, but for a fucking _game_ \--?!"

"It doesn't matter anymore!" one of them cried. "It doesn't matter. We're dead! We've left that behind."

She stared at them, and she said, "You stupid little herdbeasts still think you can _leave it behind_ , don't you?"

"The dead are dead," said an Aradia, voice barely shaking. "The living are living. They are two separate realms. Our duties are _over_."

"This isn't about duties, and the realms aren't separate at all, and nothing-- _nothing_ \-- nothing is ever over."

She lifted a wrist, in a strangely familiar motion; but before you could place it, one of the others yelled, "Grab her!" and dove for her arm, as another grappled for her weapon.

She'd been going for her veins-- and they'd seen it before, you realized. It wasn't the first time she-- or someone-- had tried.

She shook them off without much trouble; she seemed stronger than the rest of you, and you weren't sure you wanted to know how or why. "Like it would even do any good!"

"Please," said an Aradia. "Just-- just _rest_. This is what we've earned."

"Bullshit," said the bitter one, and there were tears staining her eyes red. "This isn't a fucking reward. This is a prison."

"...You're dead," said another, not without compassion. "There is no changing it. It is what it is."

"But no one is keeping you here," said a different Aradia; and that certainly turned a few heads.

The angry one glared for a moment, fixing all of them with accusatory stares; of course they had been trying to keep her there, you knew that from experience. Then she was gone, so quickly you nearly missed it, in a few long, impossible bounds.

"...Where the _fuck_ was she from?" said the last one, staring after her.

The others were silent, a few shaking their heads. They didn't want to know.

You found, to your surprise, that you really almost did, though the prospect also made you uncomfortable and afraid.

You found, to your greater surprise, that the last, lingering Aradia looked like she might as well.

You hadn't thought that the others could ever be your allies, before. Looking back, that seemed remarkably stupid. You really were all the same person. It was just a matter of time.

\--

AA: who do you suspect you would be talking to in this situation

\--

It was not in your nature to look for allies. You had been taught, recently, to be a legion unto yourself; and despite the slowly sprouting seeds of ideas the other rogue had planted, you did not yet trust any of the other soldiers in the army of you. You were dimly aware that you were trying, with little success, to woo the Handmaiden to your side, but thousands of years of history could not be put aside so quickly.

So when you stumbled into your first ally, it was entirely by accident.

It was a bubble that felt vaguely scratchy to you; the air was strange and stifling, it never failed to blur your vision, and it made something in the back of your brain itch in a way that was frustratingly difficult to quantify. The inhabitants were crass and shallow and a danger to themselves; it was annoyingly contagious, causing you to trip and stumble and blunder into things far more often than could be ascribed to mere coincidence. You entered it as little as possible, even when you had to detour around it, and you would never have entered it at all if it did not sometimes spawn demons that were at the limits of your current combat abilities. The thought of the coming time when you would be able to eliminate these slavering hellbeasts in one hit, meaning you could cut your visits short or avoid this hellhole altogether, was really quite wonderfully motivating.

It took clever maneuvering to defeat the creature; the flaming black giant could teleport, and its sword was wickedly dangerous. You had learned the trick of it, however, though every battle was perilous; and the second you got behind it, you cracked your whip around its throat, catching the other end, squeezing the loop tight until it collapsed to the ground, until it vanished.

And someone said, "If you've been killing all my demons, shouldn't I feel better or something?"

You looked up; an unnaturally pale, hornless boy was standing there, with a broken sword in his hands (too like the demon's to be a coincidence) and dark glasses covering his eyes.

One of those "humans", your carefully-edited knowledge told you, from that other world so mysteriously linked to your own. If this was his world, you were not sure you liked him in the slightest; but you answered politely anyway. "I don't believe it works that way. I believe you would have to do it yourself."

"Fuckin' fantastic." He looked at the spot where the demon had fallen, sighing. "If it ain't out of the goodness of your heart, should I ask what the fuck you're doing in my shitscape?"

His description of the place warmed you enough to compensate for his discourteousness. "Training," you answered. "I wish to get better at fighting monsters. Yours are quite impressive."

"Yeah... thanks." He didn't sound very grateful, but then, it wasn't much of a compliment. He looked up at you, tilting his head. "You're not the one I met before, are you?"

"Met before?"

"Figured you wouldn't'a ditched the fairy wings." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, met the alpha-you when I woke up in this frothy hellscape. Aradia, right? 'Nother time-bitch like me."

You couldn't really deny the title; it seemed so much more to-the-point than "handmaid", though you were sure they were different names for the same thing. "Yes. An early beta." You grimaced involuntarily. "What's your name?"

"Dave Strider. Not my first death but I think the most fuckin' pointless." He held out a hand; you shook it, warily. "What're you gettin' all warrior-princess about?"

"I'm mad that we've been fucked over and left to eternal death," you answered, meeting cagy forthrightness to cagy forthrightness. "I'm hoping to do something about it, but if I can't, it's still nice to beat things up."

"Huh." He scratched his head. "Wouldn't've expected that."

"Hmm?"

"Other you was all... zen and shit." He waved a hand vaguely, dismissively. "Enjoy your death. Take a load off. Plumb the mysteries of the universe and have shitty rapbattles with aliens for all eternity and shit. Couldn't fuckin' take it."

"Seriously? Fuck." You growled, your fists clenching. "Bet just because she's alive and god-tier, she thinks she knows everything."

"So why aren't you all at peace with your fate? Fondly regarding creation or whatever."

"Because I plumbed the mysteries of the universe," you answered, wry. "It turns out that the universe was built to fuck us over."

"No shit." He paused. "Wait, you mean literally?"

"I haven't ruled it out." You thought of the Handmaid, and felt a fang pierce your lip as you clenched your teeth. The specifics didn't really matter, though; what you _knew_ They had done was, while less conventionally horrible, definitely very much worse.

"Jesus." He shifted nervously, resting his sword on his shoulder. You wondered why he carried one that was broken. He was a Time-hero, so presumably he had issues. "Well, I might not be on the best terms with myself, but hell if I'm gonna let the Universe or whatever sexually molest _my_ sweet ass. There any Universe Cops we can call for a sting on this child porn ring?"

"Cops?"

"Didn't think so." Dave rolled his eyes; you could tell by the faint tilt of his head. "Guess that means it's up to us. Hey, Indiana, wanna play Starsky and Hutch?"

"...What?"

"There ain't no shitty troll cop shows?" He sighed. "Crockett and Tubbs? Cagney and Lacey? No? Whatever. What I'm sayin' is, you're lookin' like you want to open a few industrial vats of grade-A whoop-ass on these celestial perverts, and this is a cause I could fuckin' get behind. In a totally wholesome way."

"You're saying you'd help?" A roundabout way to get at it; but what else would you have expected, anyway?

"The fuck else have I got to do? DJ Handlebars is a decent kid, really nothin' against him, but if I've gotta dish out shitty rapbattles for the rest of eternity then I _have_ died and gone to hell, and I'd really rather it were the kind with the sick fires and naked red dudes with forks an' shit."

You stared at him. "...Earth religion is weird."

"Tell me about it." He folded his arms, sighing impatiently. "So we gonna team up, or chase each other's tails? 'Cause I can tell you, I am no stranger to stealin' other people's ideas an' doin' 'em worse."

You considered it. Did you need him, really? Well, you were dead, and didn't _need_ anyone, in the most technical sense. But relying on yourself had been what got you here. Was it worth the hassle, though? This kid might be high-maintenance. Was there really anything that he could do that you couldn't?

"...There might be one thing I need you to do, at least," you said, slowly. "Maybe more."

"Oh. One thing. Wow, I feel so special." He sounded quite annoyed; you couldn't blame him. "Fuckin' rite of passage, huh? That's not a cliche. So what is my task to be, sensei?"

"...I need you to talk to someone," you said. "Someone of my race. A lady."

Dave snorted, with another of those really-definitely-eyerolls. "Oh, it'd fuckin' figure. 'Cause chattin' up the ladiens has worked out so fucking well for me."

"Oh. You don't have to..."

He sighed, clearly irritated. "Nah, why the fuck not, story of my fuckin' life. Point me at the chick."

You hesitated, rethinking your hasty plan. "She's very dangerous, you should know. We might be dead, but she could still hurt you very badly."

He just scoffed; but of course he couldn't understand, that was the point of it. "Also nothin' new. There any chicks in your species who _won't_ kill you twelve ways for lookin' at them funny?"

"Yes," you said, and decided to admit, "but they're in the minority."

"Yeah, the others'll do it if you breathe too loud." He sighed. "Whatever. Just sew me up if she rips my dick off."

You blinked. "Your what?"

He stared at you, then winced away. "Nevermind... let's just get the fuck outta here."

"You don't know how glad I'll be."

You weren't at all sure that you trusted him, or that this would really work as any sort of test.

But she needed help from someone, and she had made it absolutely clear that it could not be you.

\--

AA: all is well and as it should be

\--

You stayed in the adjacent bubble for his first few attempts. You knew that the first would end swiftly, with an unceremonious dump on the ass-- that was if you were lucky, of course, and she was not feeling less indulgent; you were seriously wondering if you had made a terrible mistake, sending him to Her.

His return was as swift as you expected-- but, interestingly, he landed in a roll, back on his feet mere moments later. You wondered how he did it, and if it was a skill he could teach.

"Man, what lies were you feeding me about that sweet Southern lady," he said, deadpan. "Loves everybody. Got her fingers in all of the things. Was a bitch trying to get out of there without a tin of cookies."

"I'm sorry," you said.

To your surprise, he waved it away. "Nah," he said. "I like a challenge."

And moments later, he was gone again.

To your surprise, you slowly realized that he didn't need you there at all. He was working with a strange, singleminded intensity, recovering from every blow, returning after every fall. "You really don't have to do this for me," you told him; he just said, "What makes you think I'm doing it for you?"

"I'll leave you to it, then," you said, hesitantly, after a few rounds of it; gingerly poking at his scraped arm, he just nodded.

"I'll be back to check on things though!" you quickly reassured. From the look on his face, though, you suspected you were only really telling it to yourself.

You went away, and fought a few of his demons, and returned as late as you could make yourself; he was out again, rubbing a discolored spot on his face. Did humans have black-eyes too, you wondered? But if they didn't have blackrom, they might not call it that...

"...That looks painful," you said. Not the most elegant conversation-starter, but it was what you had.

"Meh. Not that bad." His hand dropped, almost as soon as you mentioned it. "Back in a few."

"Wait, you're going back? Already?"

He smirked. "Chick is totally into me. You wait and see."

You balked, confused. Surely the Ancient and Abominable wouldn't save a quadrant for some strange alien boy? "I... didn't know humans understood blackrom..." you said, hesitantly.

"Oh, Christ, not another alien romance vocabulary lesson. I'd rather go let your demon-mother rip me a new asshole. Way less painful and a lot less shit." He winced away, resheathing his sword-- wait, why had he had that out? "In fact-- be back later, lady."

By the time you realized he had probably been exaggerating on purpose, he was already back in the fray; and you decided you should probably leave him to it.

You went out again, and looked for new monsters to fight, and found a strange red dragon to dispatch in one of Terezi's dreams; and you turned to leave, and she was there, in violation of all your unspoken rules. Another Aradia, age-worn skirt drifting in the breeze.

She looked nervous; she said, voice steady anyway, "You are the one who fights things."

You thought about the dragon carcass behind you, tempted to be snippy; but an Aradia who had ventured so far from her caves deserved to be dealt with honestly. "Yes," you answer.

"They say that you have a reason for this," she said. "They say you want to fight-- well-- everything."

Probably a more accurate description than you'd like, but she had better learn to be honest as well. "Our old Masters?"

"That is what they say," she said. "Is it true?"

"Yes," you answered.

She lifted her chin, and said, "I would like to join you."

You were taken aback; you examined her a little more closely. There was still something of the robot in her, those half-manufactured passions, but those eyes look a little more like what you used to see in the mirror. You wonder what your eyes look like here. For some reason, you can't remember the last time you saw a mirror in these lands.

"I do not hear that often," you said, cautiously. "Mostly we seem to prefer our old adventures..."

"That will change, I think," she said. "It did for me."

"Why?"

She looked down, and she said, "There was a new arrival, a little while ago. That is not unusual. She was terribly, terribly angry. That is also not unusual. She ran away, and I wanted to know why. So I followed her."

"I think I saw," you said.

"I asked her what happened," she said. "She didn't want to tell me. She kept running, through all of the bubbles, but I kept chasing her, I'm not sure I know why. I don't think I could have explained it. I wanted to know. I think she needed to say it. I finally cornered her, and she finally broke down, and she told me; she told me what had gone wrong in her universe, what terrible thing that doomed the world that she had given her life to fix."

You shivered a little, as sparks lit in her eyes, as her voice began to flow with a hasty, stumbling, living stream of words. You still weren't sure you wanted to hear this, not at all. You were positive you weren't prepared.

Some truths could never be prepared for. They came anyway.

"We won," she said.

You blinked; you didn't understand. "I'm sorry?"

She smiled, bitterly; "That's what I said," she said, "and she just said, 'you should be'. And she said, 'We won. We won the fucking game. An accident of timing. But that couldn't be allowed.'"

You hadn't known you could still shiver, but the sensation certainly felt the same. "We _won_? It wasn't possible. It was _engineered_ to not be possible."

"But it happened, she said. And she had to change it. And that's why she's gone mad."

She took a deep breath, and looked you in the eye. "So, I'm fighting too. It doesn't really matter if you let me or not."

You stared at her, searching hopelessly for some sign of deceit in her eyes; you knew there would be none there. "In that case," you said, "I am glad to have you."

\--

AA: hes still not at ease with his mortality

\--

That first meeting did not continue long; you gave her a few tips on where to battle monsters, and you went your separate ways.

You were still so deeply uncomfortable with each other, with yourselves; you felt strange and sick and utterly abnormal. Some might say it had never happened, but you were learning better than that, now. Everything that might have happened had, somewhere at least, sometime. Simply not being 'alpha', not 'canonical', did not diminish it at all.

The last time you returned, he was taking a swig from a bottle of amber liquid, sprawled, exhausted, under a tree.

"Chick was a hard fuckin' nut to crack," he said.

"I don't know Earth phrases," you said, and dropped down beside him.

"I mean she was hard to, persuade or whatever." He waved a hand vaguely.

"Was?"

"Yeah. Asked what the fuck she could do to be rid of me. Said revolutionizing the world so I never died and wound up in this shithole would do it. She said Betty Lususfucking Crocker, I'll fucking do it then, and now I don't know where she is. Or why she was taking the brand's name in vain, but what the fuck ever, aliens are fuckin' weird." He took another swig.

"Wow." You blinked. "You persuaded the Devil Herself?"

"I'm that fuckin' good." He crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back, smugly. You supposed he was entitled to it, right now. You had met the Handmaid; there had been far more to this than he was saying.

But you'd let him keep his secrets, for now; he'd lost nearly everything else. "Or that annoying." You sighed. "I guess it was just a matter of persistence, after all. I'm sorry I didn't handle it myself."

"Nah," he said. "Don't think that was it."

"Hmm?"

"Here's the thing," he said. "She was alive for, however the fuck long your world was around, yeah? Or longer due to time bullshit. And doing all sorts of devil shit and it was basically fucking terrible. And then she dies, and she's got forever just to stand around thinking about it. That wasn't in her plan. She doesn't want it. She wants to actually _be dead_. I don't think you would've figured that out on your own, because I think it's like she said: you don't want anything more than to be alive."

You stared into the distance, thinking of her, thinking of the beta-Aradia. You could see, perhaps, how immortality could be hard to come to terms with.

"I think I would have figured it out eventually," you said.

He shrugged. "Well, too late now, and I think it's been a learning experience anyway. Your planet is pretty fucked up, you know that?"

"I'd say more that it _was_ fucked up, both due to its impending nonexistence, and because it was quite deliberate. But, yes."

You bit your lip, feeling awkward again; here he was, from a planet nearly untouched, and now he knew it all. It was shameful, somehow, trying to think what your planet must sound like to him. What was a global disaster on his planet would probably be, on yours, Tuesday morning...

"Well. That's a lot of shit we've gotta wreck."

He stood, stretching, and glanced back down at you. "How about we get started?"

You hadn't planned on leading any sort of team, haphazard and disjointed as this one was turning out to be. But... it was starting to seem doable.

Inasmuch as revolutionizing the multiverse while dead was doable at all. Really, compared to that, what sort of task was herding time-cats?

"Yes," you said. "I think we should."

\--

AA: its time to move on

\--

You knew exactly who she was at first sight.

Or, perhaps more precisely, what. Her bright clothes and fluttery wings were obvious, but ultimately superfluous; you knew who she was because she was _alive_ , vibrant and solid, and you loathed her bitterly for it.

She said, "I've heard that you've been restless," voice bright with curiosity and false compassion and effortless life.

You sneered. "And what are you, the Death Cops? Haven't you had enough of it yet? Don't you have anything better to do in the land of the living?"

She winced a little; "It's slow out there," she said. "Someone needs to check on everybody."

"Are you so obsessed? A thousand deaths weren't enough for you? You're the one of us who can walk among the living. Don't fucking squander it."

"Life's not a realm," she said. "It's a state of being."

Damn; she had you there. "So you'll make a harmless hobby of playing psychopomp. No reason to be any less involved with the dead than you have to, right?"

"Someone has to play the Handmaid," she said, casually and matter-of-factly as someone pointing out that someone had to be last in the line to the washroom.

You nearly hit her; you probably would have knocked her flat if it wasn't for the three careful yards you were both maintaining between you. She saw it in your eyes, and flashed an ignorant, puzzled frown, while your mind fluttered between a dozen angry responses.

 _Still Time's Bitch,_ you thought. _She hasn't escaped It like we have. How much will she be allowed to know?_

You took a deep breath and settled on, "I wouldn't let _Her_ hear you say that, you know." Genuine advice, really; She'd murder the ignorant whelp, kinship and Time be damned.

She blinked. "I don't think I'd really be any danger of that."

"Oh. I see. You still think She isn't real..."

Her frown deepened; she thought you were kidding ( _inasmuch as she CAN think_ ), but she wasn't _quite_ sure.

You couldn't tell her everything. At the moment, you felt that was just as well; it wasn't as if the ignorant hussy had worked to earn it.

But you could tell her a little, and maybe even hurt her in the process.

"Why did you come here?" you asked. "To figure out why I'm out of line? To get me to go back home and have tea with Tavros and mine?"

"To be happy, like the others are," she reframed.

"Wait, you think they're _happy_?" You shook your head. "Have you _looked_ at them lately?"

"Then you should explore!" she cried, throwing her arms out enthusiastically. "Investigate things. Find the answers to all the great mysteries!"

You scoffed. "Why do you _think_ I'm so pissed off??"

She blinked at that; but you didn't want to hear it. "What makes you think you have the right to tell me what to do with _my_ death? Just because you're the Alpha?" you snarled at her, and watched her flinch, offended. No, she was too nice to be _condescending_ , she was just trying to _help_ \-- "Tell me. What do you think the 'Alpha' timeline _is_?"

She lifted her chin, annoyed. "The timeline where everything goes right."

"That's it. That's exactly it." You leaned forward. "Right for whom?"

"For everyone," she said. "For us."

You shook your head, covering your eyes with your hands. "You don't know a god damn thing."

"Excuse me?"

"I bet you think you've got a direct line, don't you? Inside information with those fancy new wings..."

"Yes," she snapped. "I do. You have no idea what I know."

"And you're just going to believe everything you hear??" You glared at her. "Lay there and take your _orders_ and lord it over us, because we're dead and you're not, until it's your turn to get fucked over just like the rest of us, and you're finally dead again, just like you want, finally an excuse to be here full-time--"

She slapped you.

You gaped, just for a moment, blinking away the maroon haze over your vision. How the hell had she moved that fast, anyway? And how dare _she_ hit _you_?

"I am _alive_ ," she hissed. "And I intend to _stay_ that way."

You looked into her eyes, considering. They were... intense. Fervent. Passionate.

It was best that you not avoid the word. _Alive_.

You said, "Then maybe we aren't all fucked after all."

She stared at you for a long moment, uneasy. "You aren't going to change your mind, are you?"

"No," you answered.

"...Well," she said. "I suppose you're right about at least one thing. What you do with your death isn't really my business at all-- if it makes you happy."

You nearly choked. "Do I _look_ happy?!"

She said, "Maybe the word is... alive."

There were few things she could have said that would have affected you more. You wondered if she knew.

You almost asked, but she was turning away from you already-- and then she fluttered away, without so much as a goodbye.

It wasn't the last time you were going to see her, you knew that now for sure. And if she had the sense to keep her eyes op--

"Aw, shit. Can you even fucking _imagine_ the market for hot alien lesbian twin catfights? Can you _imagine_??"

"I don't really want to," you said, irritated. "I don't think they'd be a very attractive clientele."

"Course not, it's the fuckin' internet. But Jegus Fuck, the profit margin."

You shook your head. "Wonderful. I'm partners with an online bucket-monger."

"Seriously, the Christ is with you people and buckets, anyway? --Shit, ignore my lapse of sanity there, I do not want to know EVER. Hell, if someone starts to tell me? Swear you'll put me outta my misery before I can hear."

You shot him an amused glance; whatever else the boy was, he was certainly distracting. "I'm not sure I could."

"Dead, right, yeah." You started to head east; he fell into place behind you, pacing, almost like the Knight he was supposed to be. He could be more than that, though; you were sure of it. Just like all of you could be.

"In all seriousness, thanks for the restraint an' everything," he said. "Wouldn't've wanted to break that shit up."

"You mean you _weren't_ waiting in the wings with a camera?" You hadn't seriously believed he might, but you were still taking his measure. "Yes, it's really just as well. I'd think it would've been you that got broken."

"A, dead. B, bull shit, lady, I had a _plan_." He smirked.

"Oh? And what might that have been?"

"Think about it. What've you got to the northwest?"

"What, in the bubble--?" You realized as you said it he had to mean another bubble, and paled slightly as you _did_ think about what lay that direction.

"Creepy musclebuilder horse guy. Tell him there's two of you goin' at it, he'd'a knocked me over rushin' to--"

"No, no, I. That was a very good plan." You stared at him. "Perhaps I should be keeping you _away_ from the Handmaid..."

"Man, Devil-lady's sweet an' all, but this shit runs through my _veins_. I'm a Strider-Lalonde." His smile was a little bitter, a little proud. "Didn't even take much research to figure out what that _means_."

"I need to look far more deeply into your Earth history, don't I?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "But I got you covered."

Yes... perhaps he did.

\--

AA: we have to be prepared to die a thousand deaths before our quest is complete

\--

You don't think there is a fate worse than death, not for you; but you're willing to risk it anyway. Just like before, really, except this time it's a conscious decision, this time you really have a _choice_ : you don't care what happens, but for yourself, for everyone you've ever known, you will see this plan through to its, or your, ultimate end.

You don't know if you'll ever band together, any of you, any of he. Not among yourselves, as it were, and precious few with others. You all tend to find that, as he put it, one of you is nearly more than you can handle.

It's really a good thing, then, that you were all bred and trained to be one-person armies.

And with an infinite enemy... that just means each of you gets a front to yourself.

And all the time in, and out of, the world.

-*-


End file.
